Research is a Super-Power
by onlymystory
Summary: Stiles works a lot of magic with a baseball bat and whatever mystical crap he can convince Deaton to give him. But sometimes, being a BAMF doesn't need weapons or magic. Sometimes his regular old human research skills are more than enough to save the day. What's the saying? The pen is mightier than the sword? So true. Especially when Stiles is the one wielding the pen.


**Quick heads up: Some of you may have read this before. It's not a new story, just posted differently. I was doing all my BAMF!Stiles stories in one set, since they're related by his Bamfery (though nothing else). AO3 lets me do a series so it works there. But now that one of the stories (That Bamf Thing? Hereditary) is six chapters, it feels too confusing to keep them all together here. So I'm splitting them out. That's why if you're reading and thinking 'gosh this seems familiar', it is.**

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Six months. It's been six months of The Alpha Pack terrorizing Beacon Hills and the Hale pack is no closer to defeating them. Stiles thinks closer is a relative term since it implies there was ever a point where defeat was a legitimate possibility.

This last round got Stiles attacked by a lesser Alpha. Not for any particular reason. Just their usual habit of making a point to show that they could get to the people the pack cares about.

That's what this alpha, Ethan, called Stiles at least. A loved one. Not a pack member.

It should upset Stiles, make him second guess his position. He thinks that might have been the point of the attack, to keep adding seeds of doubt. It's been working, little by little. The Argents are an incident away from calling every hunter in Chris' black book and raining hell down on Beacon Hills. Stiles knows that the Alphas wouldn't survive that. But neither would any other werewolf in town.

Boyd and Erica are skittish, staying with the pack but only because they can't run again. The Alphas won't let anyone leave. Stiles hates the mind games they play, toying with the pack before they ultimately destroy them.

And it's going to happen. No matter what Derek says, they aren't strong enough to win. The Hale pack just isn't as seasoned, doesn't have the warriors. It has kids. And Peter.

But the thing is, Stiles doesn't like to do what's expected of him. So yeah Ethan clawing up his arm might be designed to drive a wedge between Stiles and the pack, imagining him as a loved one but not top priority, but Stiles has always been stubborn.

Ethan's words get him researching, thinking. He just doesn't get enough time to compile his research so he can put the pieces together.

A week after the attack, Derek locates one of the Alphas' hideouts and calls a pack meeting.

"We're going out there," says Derek, as everyone is gathered at the pack house.

Peter insisted they get somewhere to live with a roof and running water. He wisely used Isaac as a reason over himself to get Derek's agreement.

Sometimes Stiles admires Peter.

"And doing what?" asks Scott, frustrated. He and Allison are tenuously back on right now but they're fast moving to an off setting with the Alpha situation.

"Ending this. We have the advantage knowing where they are."

"Won't they hear us coming?" questions Boyd wearily.

Derek looks like he wants to growl but holds back. "Not if we're careful. At least not too soon. And if we can surround them and get close enough, we can use that slight advantage to take them out."

There's additional argument but eventually Derek pulls the Alpha on them and that's that.

Stiles starts to get off the couch and grab his bat to go with them.

"You're staying here," growls Derek.

"The hell I am!" snaps Stiles. Fuck Ethan and his mind games, Stiles isn't sitting still while his pack is in danger.

"You're human, Stiles," says Allison softly and really, she's just the wrong person to say that.

"Pot," answers Stiles.

"Hunter," returns Derek. He has a point even if Stiles doesn't think it's a very good one.

Naturally, Stiles says so. "I'm not weak. I can fight too. I can be a distraction, bait, whatever hel…"

"NO!" snarls Derek. But his eyes don't flash red. Instead Stiles sees fear in them. Concern.

It's also one of those things that Stiles hasn't been able to fully put together. Derek will grip his arm a little softer than normal, or stare at him like he's breakable in a precious way, and twice he's made a whining noise that if Stiles didn't know better would sound like longing.

"I…we can't protect you," continues Derek. "Peter is staying behind as well."

Peter's eyes flash up at that as well but he doesn't argue. He's been allowed to live but no one trusts him. Not to have their backs in a fight.

Stiles gets that, he really does, but he also thinks that if Peter had darker plans he would have screwed the pack over already.

"I'm staying in protest," says Stiles now, glaring at Derek.

"As long as you protest from the couch, I don't care. Fighting is our only option. We have to get the Alphas out of Beacon Hills or we'll all end up dead." Derek beckons for the others to follow him.

"Kill or be killed," mutters Peter. It's a terrible and yet accurate thing to say.

Stiles is busy imprinting the faces of his pack on his heart, knowing he might not see them again. But his mind is also putting pieces together. It's clicking but it's not clicking fast enough. He needs Peter.

So he sits and lets the pack leave and tries not to wonder if it was for the last time. He can tell they're gone when Peter gets up and starts folding blankets.

"Peter, do you still have all your research on your laptop?" asks Stiles.

Peter doesn't look over at him. "Of course. Knowledge is power. Whatever the fuck that means," he adds bitterly.

"Does it have territorial laws on it?" asks Stiles, because his brain just put one of the pieces together.

Peter turns to look at him now, discernment in his eyes. "It does. You think there's something in there?"

Stiles nods. "I've been researching the Alphas for months now, trying to figure out something that can help and I have an idea. A pack has to have a legitimate reason to dispute ownership of the land, right?"

"Yes," answers Peter, his own eyes lighting up a bit. He sits back down on the couch and opens up his laptop.

Stiles moves from across the room and sits down next to Peter, leaning against the werewolf so he can see the computer screen as well.

Peter gives him a funny look.

"What?"

"You're sitting by me."

"So?"

"I was under the impression I had contagious psycho cooties."

Stiles snorts. "I don't think that's a recognized condition."

Peter smiles a little. His eyes indicate that he needs an answer.

Stiles has one. "You were out of your mind when you killed Laura. A wolf bent on revenge, not a werewolf trying to find his pack, or a human trying to heal."

"That doesn't excuse what I did," says Peter quietly.

"No, it doesn't. But I get it. Sometimes sanity is in short supply." He's not being glib or sarcastic. The pack thinks Melissa McCall always patches up Stiles because she understands the werewolf thing. Neither of them ever mentions that no other nurse will go near Stiles. There were a few incidents after his mother died. What's the saying? Sometimes love makes you do the wacky.

That seems to be enough of an answer for the werewolf. But then Peter has always understood certain elements of Stiles better than anyone else.

Peter finds the section on territorial law. "A pack can make a claim of ownership, via traditional channel, in the case of vacated territory, Omega held territory, or if the pack in current ownership has harmed the claimed mate of an Alpha. Traditional channel means they can make the request in writing or by attacking, like our particular Alpha pack."

"Is there someone to enforce the laws?" asks Stiles, because this doesn't matter if no one holds them up.

"A council. Headquarters are in Greece, with satellite locations around the world, including Los Angeles."

"Headquarters aren't in the Scandinavian region?"

Peter looks at him sharply.

Stiles shrugs. "Everything I've learned about werewolves suggest Norse not Greek."

"Even the Alphas?"

"Especially the Alphas. Mind games? That has Loki's descendants written all over it."

"I really should have bitten you in the woods that night," mutters Peter, though it's without malice.

"Probably," grins Stiles because he knows he would be a fucking badass werewolf. But if he can pull this off, he'll be a badass human too.

Peter sighs. "Rumors say the real headquarters of the Council, not the buildings they use for meetings and forums, are in fact somewhere in the forests of Norway. But those rumors were never confirmed. It doesn't matter anyway. The Alphas have a legitimate claim since Laura and Derek left for six years."

"Does it say vacated by an Alpha or the pack?" questions Stiles.

That gets a bit of light in Peter's eyes. He knows exactly what Stiles is asking now and rereads the statute. "As long as any pack member still resides in the territory, it cannot be considered abandoned."

Stiles smiles and it's every bit as wolfish as his pack mates. "There's our other option."

"What makes you think the Alphas will agree?" asks Peter. "They could just attack anyway. If they kill all of us, there's no one to make the complaint."

"First, I had Deaton and Morrell do some digging for me. The Alphas have taken over all but one of the territories they attacked. But every territory was held by a small and inexperienced pack, the kind that wouldn't know there were laws to help them until it was too late."

"And the one that beat them?"

"An Alpha's mate was attacked. They found out and left without further bloodshed," answers Stiles.

Peter is, like Stiles has said before, a very smart man. "That's your second advantage isn't it? If they won't leave based on pure territorial claim."

"It is. These alphas are bloodthirsty and brutal and they clearly like to manipulate packs but their past actions show they don't break the rules."

"When did you figure it out?" Peter isn't referring to the Alpha pack.

"When Derek's growls started sounding less angry and more scared," says Stiles. "But I think it happened, at least for me on a level I didn't get then, when I had a dying Derek standing in front of me, a Derek that I hated, and I was agreeing to cut off his arm if it saved his life. I just didn't really think about what that actually meant until a couple months ago," he admits.

Peter squeezes Stiles' wrist, only briefly, but there's approval in the gesture. That matters to Stiles. He thinks that secretly it would matter to Derek too.

Stiles takes another breath. "So, how fast can you drive?"

It turns out Peter can drive pretty damn fast because they pull up in front of the Alphas' location before any of their pack has arrived. Peter even sniffs to be sure. "Now or never, kid."

The "kid" laughs and exits the car with his bat. Hey, he never said he was above a little insurance. They get just far enough from the car to be in the middle of the yard when the Alphas, all of them, come out of the house.

"You must have a death wish, kid," says Ethan, licking his lips as he steps through the door.

"Oh I definitely have a death wish," says Stiles with a smile. "No matter how this goes, someone's going to kill me."

Peter laughs next to him.

"You brought the crazy uncle with you for protection," notes Kali, the leader. "How precious."

"I prefer creepy undead uncle, actually," interjects Peter. "I realize it's a more difficult but then, so was resurrection."

Stiles snorts and Adrian, Ethan's twin, snickers at the same time. "I'm here to end this," says Stiles.

Peter nudges him to indicate the rest of the pack is approaching. They're close enough to hear, not close enough to see anything yet. Stiles raises his voice. "I didn't listen to you, Derek. Come join the fun."

The answering growl tells Stiles he's going to have a lot to answer for. He can handle that.

The Alphas wait for the Hale pack to show up. They stand behind Peter and Stiles, unsure of what's going on, except for Derek who immediately tries to push Stiles behind him.

Stiles puts a hand on Derek's arm. "Derek. Let me talk. It's what I'm good at after all."

"I told you not to be here," growls Derek. He doesn't move.

"I know. Trust me." Stiles pulls at Derek and moves him to his side, not pushing to get in front of him. He knows the Alpha has limits. Especially when it comes to Stiles.

"Exactly what do you have to offer that could make us leave?" asks Kali, her voice showing she is done with banter and private conversations.

"I'm not offering anything. I'm establishing the Hale pack's ownership of this territory," clarifies Stiles.

"Silly human. You don't know how this works." She stalks forward menacingly. "Alpha Hale is trying to establish his ownership too. It's just a matter of best pack wins."

"Actually, you only have the right to make an attempt of ownership if the territory has been abandoned."

"Exactly," begins Kali.

Peter snarls and it's every bit as feral as he can make it.

Stiles smirks. "You didn't do your research. Beacon Hills was never vacated. Peter Hale resided in the Beacon Hills hospital for six years until Laura Hale returned, followed by Derek Hale. There has always been an active member of the Hale pack in Beacon Hills and therefore your claim is void."

He can sense the change. The law is on their side and the Alphas know it. "I've also made a call to the LA branch to inform them of your assaults," continues Stiles. "Unless you leave today, they will be dispatching aid. Though it sounded like they'll be making an investigation into your particular tactics anyway."

Kali snarls and leaps in front of Stiles, hovering from mere inches away. "I could still kill you before we leave. You think because you've claimed a pack that it keeps you safe?"

Stiles is very careful about his wording here because he needs more than one person to understand this. He's about to put the last piece of the puzzle together and the Alphas aren't the only ones likely to be surprised. "You are right that I'm pack. But you are also wrong. I did not claim a pack. I claim my Alpha as my own and mine alone."

Kali steps back in shock. The other Alphas' faces look amazed. Stiles gets the impression that most humans don't make the first gesture in terms of claiming their mate.

Stiles unzips his hoodie and lets it fall to the ground, revealing his still bandaged arm. "You attacked an Alpha's mate," he says with a growl. "I am well within my rights to request your deaths and inherit all held territories. You are leaving Beacon Hills. Now. I suggest you pass the message along that this town is off limits. Am I understood?"

It's not really a question and everyone in the clearing knows it. There were a few gasps from his pack members at the word mate but everyone is still, waiting.

Kali snarls, shifts, and takes off. The others quickly follow, though Ethan pauses long enough to give Stiles a nod that says he's impressed.

The pack remains silent, most of them frozen on the spot, trying to understand what just happened.

Peter focuses on Derek, listens and scents out his nephew's emotions. There's nervousness and fear at the danger Stiles was just in. There's a hint of love, but in a way that hasn't fully formed yet. But the strongest emotions rolling off the Hale pack alpha are possessiveness and want. The want is almost suffocating.

Peter looks to the betas and the hunter. "Time to go, pups. These two need to talk."

The core trio and Jackson run back the way they came, deep into the woods. Peter takes Scott and Allison with him, though the boy lingers for a moment, worried as always about his best friend.

Stiles likes to take risks and say things to get the result he wants but he's not always interested in the consequences.

"Scott, c'mon," says Peter quietly. "Stiles knew what he was doing. This next part has to be between them."

Scott goes, sitting in the back of the car with Allison, watching as Stiles and Derek stay still until the car turns a corner and they disappear from his view.

Stiles finally steps over to Derek, forces the werewolf to look at him and actually respond. "Derek. Derek, look at me."

"You shouldn't have to do this," says Derek softly. "Tie yourself to me like this. I know it's different for werewolves, we want forever not a date. But my wanting you as a mate shouldn't mean you give up everything you want."

Stiles tilts his head a little, wondering how Derek can know him so well sometimes and yet know him so little at others. "When have I ever done something I don't want to do? I'm not saying this will be easy, Derek. I'm young and in a lot of ways so are you. We're going to fight and argue and the fact that neither of us is very good at expressing our emotions until they explode out of us is going to cause major problems over the years. But I don't make claims I don't intend to assert and I don't make promises I don't intend to keep. And I definitely wouldn't lead you on like that. I want to be yours. I want you to be mine."

Derek listens, really listens. Stiles' heartbeat is steady, his voice sure, and Derek knows that he means it. "I want this too," he says, and kisses Stiles.

Stiles kisses him back. It's steady but soft, the kind of kiss that says they have years to explore each other and don't need to rush to the finish line tonight.

After a long moment, Derek pulls away first. "We should probably go take care of the pack. They need us."

Stiles nods. "Yeah. What on earth will they do with themselves now that we don't have any bad guys to fight?"

Derek laughs and slips his hand into Stiles'. "I suppose you and Peter could teach them how to research."

"And reveal that Google-fu and dusty books are my superpower? Never."

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**By the way, if you ever want to send prompts my way or just gush about the awesomeness of Stiles, I'm on tumblr at .com. Feel free to come chat.**


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